


Second Skin

by Novantinuum (ChromaticDreams)



Series: Brandishing the Star: A Crystal Gem's Guide to the Universe (SU shorts) [17]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dissociation, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Intrusive Thoughts, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, Stress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27284284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChromaticDreams/pseuds/Novantinuum
Summary: Steven can’t help but dread the undefined cocktail of emotions that trigger this newest power...12 shorts, each delving into Steven’s developing opinions and feelings about his “pink mode” in SUF.
Relationships: Crystal Gems & Steven Universe, Greg Universe & Steven Universe
Series: Brandishing the Star: A Crystal Gem's Guide to the Universe (SU shorts) [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1491011
Comments: 82
Kudos: 91





	1. Little Homeschool

**Author's Note:**

> _All the shadows that I woke up in_   
>  _Are just my volatile second skin_
> 
> -Reflections Are Protection, La Roux

Steven chooses not to dwell on the incident with Jasper for the remainder of that afternoon. There’s far, far too much work to be done at Little Homeschool, of course. New Gems to register, orientations to oversee, baseball practice, assisting Peridot in the greenhouse... the list goes on. Adding his own personal concerns into the mix won’t benefit anyone.

When he finally parks his car at the foot of the cliff by his house and trundles through the front door— long after the sun has dipped under the horizon, trusting the constellations and the moon to light the way— his attention is nabbed for the next hour and a half by a video call from Connie. They talk about school life, about training routines, about books they’ve read recently. (Or in his case, as busy as he is, books he _plans_ to read.) He briefly considers telling her about the fight... about the strange new lease of power he’s seemingly unlocked... but she’s grinning right now, she’s laughing, and with all the stress she’s been wrestling during her studies he’d really hate to dampen the mood with more of his nonsense.

Besides, it’s only another learning opportunity. He’ll simply have to rise to master this power just like he mastered his shield. As is becoming a concerning commonality these days, he’s letting worry fester at the back of his mind for nothing. So what, his entire body glowed pink? Big whoop. He once accidentally swapped bodies with Lars. It doesn’t get any weirder than that. This is all completely normal Gem stuff. He’s _fine_.

Regardless, his rest that night is harried and unsettled. His toes kick out from under the covers as he squirms, desperately hunting for the perfect position as if shifting a few vertebrae would be enough to ensure him a peaceful sleep. No luck. Even the faint salt scented breeze drifting in from the balcony door— which he pulled slightly ajar before getting into bed, hoping the ambient sound would act as a soothing white noise— is no help. Steven still doesn’t want to think about what happened too deeply, but in these early hours, when Beach City stands hauntingly still and his overactive mind isn’t otherwise pacified by the distraction of service, there’s no other destination his thoughts can travel to.

He fought Jasper, willingly. Not only that, he _reveled_ in it. Truth be told, he’s never experienced such a confidence in his power in his whole life as he did while he glowed pink. As the Crystal Gem who had to work his butt off in training for years just to be taken seriously in a conflict, he has to admit that feels pretty good. Never mind his racing heart throughout the whole encounter, he flipped off his shield in midair! He blocked a full-speed spin dash with nothing but a barred fist! All of that’s wicked cool, right?

But on the other hand, he punched her with such force that she smashed through dozens of trees. He effortlessly chucked her entire mass a good mile into the sky, and then smashed her into the ground so hard she left a sizable crater in the skin of the earth. The whole time he was actively frustrated with her, he was stressed out, and he channeled those sentiments into brutal retaliation with such ease that the mere reality he’s capable of this kind of violence still haunts him.

So it’s another learning opportunity, yes. This much is true. This definitely isn’t his first rodeo, figuring out how to properly assert control over a wayward power. But as he tosses and turns in his bed and considers the rest of his abilities... acknowledges how they’re all regulated by specific emotions... he can’t help but dread the undefined cocktail of emotions that trigger this one.

It’s gonna be a long, restless night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week! A short set post-Guidance.


	2. Guidance

“Yo, PEARL!” Amethyst hollers when Steven and her both return home that evening, flailing her arms in sheer excitement for the words he knows in an instant are about to careen like a wild river from her mouth. “Guess what? Steven and I totally went supersonic today!”

Pearl glances up from some old Gem tech she’s messing with on the coffee table with intrigue. “Supersonic? You mean, you—“

“—fused into Smoky Quartz and started glowing _pink_ and ran like, a bajillion miles per hour and saved half the town all by ourselves? You know it! And what’s more, I’m pretty much _positive_ this was all Steven.”

The ivory Gem sets down her screwdriver, eyes shooting alert in acknowledgement of all this news as she rises to her feet, and before he knows it everyone’s attention is directed squarely on him and— he’s not gonna lie, it’s almost disconcerting. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling all awkward and itchy. Ughhh, why did Amethyst have to make such a big deal about this in the first place? It’s so embarrassing.

“A new power, huh?” Pearl asks him, resting her hand on the waistline of her jeans. “Well, that’s rather exciting! You haven’t had one of those for a while.“

“Ahah, yeah... It was pretty weird,” he mutters, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at how overbearingly supportive her tone is, the same sort of tone she used to use when he was twelve and could barely summon a shield and was literally useless to the group. Stars’ sake, this isn’t even like that. He’s sixteen! He’s all but mastered his powers except for whatever the heck this is.

His partner in crime from today chimes in, slamming her hands against her cheeks. “Dude, it was awesome! Like, where did that even come from?”

“I... I don’t know,” he says, haunted deep to his core by this very realization as he voices it. “Something similar happened a few days ago, but I have no idea what it is yet, or how to control it. I’m sure I’ll figure it out, though,” he adds quickly.

The quartz Gem chortles, surprising him with a solid clap on the back that makes him startle. “That’s our Steven, huh? Always full of surprises! Who even knows what’s gonna happen next, with him!”

She captures him in a headlock, giggling something fierce as she gives him a great big noogie. He yelps in protest, his reaction in stark opposition to Pearl’s affectionate chuckles in the background. On any other day he lives for Amethyst’s great goofs, but right now his body’s super tense and he’s not sure why. ( _Don’t lie to yourself, you absolutely know the reason why, and it starts with the letter P.)_ Gently, making it seem as if he’s merely playing along with her antics, he pushes her hands away.

“Heh, heh,” he laughs, his voice ever so subtly trembling as he rushes not to think, not a thought, nothing whatsoever about— _a-about the future, the past, these new powers, anything that’ll make him question the comfortable stability of the here-and-now that he’s been latching onto like an infant’s desperate, clinging grasp for so long now, so long that the pressure makes his skin crawl and his heart pound, both with an unstoppable rhythmless fervor—_ “Y-yeah! So unpredictable, that’s me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so... even though there’s no major moments of discussion on this topic early on in SUF, my heart refuses to believe that the Gems _didn’t_ talk about this power of his before Fragments. I headcanon that they mostly regarded this as yet another emerging ability of his in those early days. Nothing to be concerned about! Just something to train with and master. It’s only later, when they begin to realize how out-of-control these powers are spiraling for him, that they become worried.
> 
> Friday: a scene post-Volleyball.


	3. Volleyball

When Pearl comes to check on him he’s lying limp and numb atop his rumpled comforter in the dark of his bedroom, still clad in his usual jeans and t-shirt even though he knows full well he’s literally never had a comfortable night’s sleep sweating away in his day clothes.

“Steven? Are you awake?” she whispers from around the corner, feigning caution with her volume as if he hadn’t just heard every single stair creak and groan with her ascent.

(For a second he almost considers not replying, pretending he’s asleep, but then... trapped somewhere amidst his bitterness and shame about today’s drastic misadventure, a small part of him can’t help but crave the possibility of closure.)

Steven sighs and shifts to sit up on his bed, giving up the chase. “Yeah, I’m awake. Heh, honestly, I haven’t even changed for bed yet. Anyways,” he clasps his hands together, forcing a smile, “what’s up? Did Volleyball consider your pitch about Little Homeschool?”

Pearl’s lips curve into a slight frown as she studies him closely. “Well, yes, but... I just wanted to check in, about earlier—“

“What, about...” Fingers tousle and fidget in his lap. He swears his cheeks suddenly feel hotter in his embarrassment, although he has no real way to prove it. (No real way to exert full control over this new power...) “About all that pink nonsense?”

“I just... Hmm,” she pauses, bringing her folded hands to her chest as she carefully considers her words. “You seemed really upset about what Volleyball and I were discussing back there at the Reef, about Pink, and I- I can’t help wondering if there’s anything I could’ve done differently there, if maybe I—“

“Hey. Don’t even worry about it.”

“But you—“

“Just had some hard feelings I had to get out, I’m _fine,”_ he lies, heart fracturing as he realizes closure on this issue is impossible to obtain with someone who will never be able to listen to his true thoughts without immediately reaching to blame herself. “Cracking the floors was totally my bad, my mistake. Ahah, you know how it is, emotion-regulated powers, and all!” he says, jerking his twitchy hands up from his lap to gesture towards himself.

Pearl doesn’t laugh in return, but she does give a small hum of affection at this comment.

“All right, then,” she tells him quietly from the other side of the room, hugging her arms around her torso. “If you’re sure you’re okay...”

“I am,” he nods with falsified confidence, once more swallowing that festering urge he’s been harboring all evening now, to run out to the shoreline alone, illuminated solely by moonlight, and scream out all of his years of frustrations and resentment until the sand and the waves bend to his power and all of this awful, awful pink finally drains right out of him.

“I’m doing much better now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I can't tell Pearl how I feel, 'cause she'll blame herself, and spiral outta control, and I'll have to pick up the pieces.”
> 
> Tuesday: A scene with Garnet and Steven, post Bluebird!


	4. Bluebird

Inhaling deep and pushing further into the light stretch of the muscles of his back, Steven situates himself in a bridge pose, following Garnet’s lead amidst their private weekly yoga session. She suggested this new ritual a few weeks back, saying she hoped it might relieve some of the tension within his mind amidst all the hard work of running a school. Honestly, he’s never been the biggest fan of things like yoga and meditation since his thoughts are always apt to wander without restraint, but given that they live in the same home and commonly spend free time in each other’s presence anyways, he feels he has no reasonable excuse to decline.

Still, this morning more than most, even if he could _use_ some relaxation, he’s super _not in the mood_.

A few minutes before he and Garnet left for the grassy clifftop to begin their routine, his teary-eyed dad locked himself in the bathroom with a pair of trimming scissors, presumedly to clean up the ends of what’s left of his once-glorious mane of hair. Amethyst and Pearl made quick work in returning the van outside, carefully backing it onto the warp pad before ferrying it over to Little Homeworld. And those prickly perpetrators, that Bluebird, had skulked away just as raucously as they’d clawed under everyone’s skin in the first place. Everyone’s safe now, everyone should be relieved. In any other situation this should be cause for celebration. But... they can’t. Not today. Dad, he... he lost something incredibly important to him, a physical testament to literal decades of life. And him?

He’s genuinely starting to scare himself, with how _easy_ slipping into this new lease of power has become.

Silently, Garnet transitions to a new pose, one he recognizes as the downward dog. Steven tries his best to inhale evenly as he eases himself out of the bridge and flips over on his mat. With marked hesitance he lifts his midsection into the air, supporting himself on his palms and the balls of his feet, and revels in the deep extension of his spine. This position is supposed to be calming, he’s read. For humans, it sends tons of fresh oxygen to the brain. But despite his half-human biology, it doesn’t seem to work for him. Instead, his mind plays through his tussle with Aquamarine and Eyeball over and over and over and over, pausing at every hard hit, each indiscriminate strike he made, questioning his degree of restraint at every avenue. In the end, he knows damn well he was holding back in that fight, and it’s this that terrifies him. (Like it or not, he’s a diamond.) And if he’s right, if he’s only using a fraction of his true ability, then... what does that say about him? About the potential damage he could render to everyone around him? (The sheer terror quivering in Volleyball’s eyes... as his scream shatters the floor around him...)

How does someone reign such unwieldy power in?

His brow creases as he leans into this stretch. Well... how does someone like Garnet manage it? She’s by far the most powerful Crystal Gem he knows. Perhaps she may be able to provide some input to his quandary. A tangled web of questions brew in his mind as he parts his lips to speak.

“Hey... Garnet?” he asks, unable to help the wavering vulnerability creeping into his voice.

Tragically, it’s a vulnerability that wouldn’t get to be shared amongst family today.

“Remember- the benefits of yoga are best if one works to quiet their mind and maintain an inner balance,” she reminds him, and pushes herself to her feet to move into their next pose, the tree. Every single word the teen had planned dies in his mouth upon her gentle reprimand.

Steven sighs heavily, and drops his tired body atop the mat.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” he mutters, and rolls his eyes when he knows she can’t see. “Of course you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “And I don’t want any more ‘high and mighty’ advice from Garnet. I just want to _know_ better for once!”
> 
> Actually gonna move the next update to next week Tuesday, since my term has gotten super busy. Don't wanna run out of buffer, ahah.


	5. Little Graduation

It’s long past midnight by the time Steven finally tiptoes through the front door of his home and kicks off his flip flops, the crisp winter air having long since nestled deep within his bones. (Brooding on the roof of your car for goodness knows how many hours will do that to you.) His body barely feels real at this point, a dull tingling radiating throughout his fingers as his arms shift on mere habitual command to hang his keys on the hook. He’s not sure if this is a sign of chronic exhaustion or some late-onset consequence of glowing pink for such an unusually long stretch of time a day ago. Heck, maybe it’s both. Stars knows he hasn’t been sleeping soundly for a good three years now.

He’s about to turn on his heels to begin his ascent up the stairs to his room when the temple door sparks to life and phases open like glue peeling apart, totally scaring the crap out of him. He gives a sharp yelp, stumbling two steps back. Hard light pours from his gem on automatic. And then, before he can entirely process the tangled series of events that led him from point A to B, he’s glowing bright pink in front of a very bemused looking Amethyst, breathing heavy as he raises his shield in a defensive stance. She throws her hands up.

“Whoa, it’s good man, just me!” she says with poorly masked concern. Her eyes skate over him from head to toe, and he can’t help but squirm under the scrutiny, no matter how well-meaning it may be. “You, ah- you okay, there?”

“Y-yeah!” he croaks with a too-wide grin, slowly willing the tension to drain from his body. “Yeah. ‘M fine. You startled me, is all.”

Exhaling heavily, Steven wills his shield to dissipate and then shakes out his hands, so far one of the few methods he’s found of making this pink glow wash away. It’s not consistently successful, though. For instance, it certainly didn’t do him any favors at graduation. (Scattered nightmares— _his geometric dome, all his friends wailing, clawing at its sides as it crushes them inwards, what if, what if, what_ ** _if_** — corrode the neurons of his mind like a toxin.)

He’s only broken from this internal prison when Amethyst speaks again.

“Dude, where the heck have you been, anyways?”

He shrugs. “Y’know, around. Just wandering. It’s a nice night.”

Her expression softens, brows lowering on her forehead. “Well, that’s fine, but... just so you know, Garnet and Pearl were super worried when you didn’t come home when you said you would.”

Delicately, she steps forward and rests one of her hands on his shoulder, offering promises of unconditional support he knows he doesn’t deserve.

“So maybe,” she continues, meeting him face-to-face, “the next time you decide to run off for some fresh air in the middle of the night, you could let us know where you’re going? Write a note, shoot a text?”

“But I wasn’t going _anywhere,”_ he blurts out, shrugging away from her. “That’s like? Actually what wandering’s about?”

“Steven, come on, you know what I me—“

“Anyways, it’s really late,” he brushes her off with a singular wave of his hand. “I’m headed to bed, okay? Gotta catch up on those Z’s! See you in the morning, bye!”

Not even allowing Amethyst the chance to push another word in edgewise, he hightails it up the stairs so fast he nearly trips at the final step. In reality, though, he has no plan of sleeping.

Who on Earth _could,_ after nearly crushing their friends with their out-of-control powers and making a total fool of themself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “And I’m so sick of Amethyst acting like she’s sooo mature now!” [...] “Pfft, I know! It’s like, get over yourself.”
> 
> Aaaand so, one by one, the Crystal Gems accidentally ‘prove’ to Steven that they’re not worth being vulnerable with, because they don’t truly understand him, in his eyes.
> 
> Next week: a scene set mid-Prickly Pair...


	6. Prickly Pair

Steven clenches his fists together so hard his palms sting as he silently slinks up the stairs to the privacy of his room after dinner.

He’s finally figured it out. Blown this whole case wide open. Sleuthed his way to the most undesirable answer one could ever imagine.

Weeks ago, he asked himself what undefined cocktail of emotions triggers this new unwieldy, destructive power of his. All of his abilities are triggered by _something,_ after all. He summons his shield with intense feelings of love and protection. Bubbles are similar, but with an added dose of self-preservation. Floating? Happiness and contentment. Fusion? Love.

These pink powers?

It’s anger. Just anger.

And the more he stews over it, the more everything lines up. The day he first turned pink and slammed Jasper through half a mile of trees, he was angry, boiling in frustration over her stubbornness and personal insults. When he turned pink a second time as Smoky, they were angry at themself, so, so afraid of people becoming hurt thanks to Steven’s earlier mistakes. This fateful pattern weaves through almost every incident. When he exploded in the Reef and cracked the very floors below him, he was angry. (At his mother.) When he went on the offense against Aquamarine and Eyeball, he was angry. _(For_ his father.) At graduation, when he generated that impenetrable dome around his friends, a stupid, selfish part of him couldn’t help but be angry then, too. (At Lars, Sadie, _everyone_ \- for leaving him behind.)

It happened again tonight, right before dinner. He raised his voice, and in a heartbeat that sickening pink glow had already flooded through his body and permeated through his skin. And it’s all because he’s mad about a back-talking cactus. How _stupid_ is that?

Steven face plants into his comforter, groaning at himself as he reflects on all his recent misdeeds. The trials of his past may have lifted all of Gemkind into a new age of prosperity, but it’s seemingly left him cracked. He’s so tired, of everything. Is this just who he is now? Have all his experiences twisted him into this bitter, angry person?? Stars, he doesn’t want to feel this way. In fact, maybe he doesn’t want to _feel_ at all anymore!

He hates this.

~~ (He kinda hates himself, too.) ~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the end, going pink isn’t triggered by anger, just mental stress- but rewatching SUF, I could get a sense for how Steven might- in his vulnerable state- come to the conclusion that it’s a matter of anger.
> 
> In other words, it’s really funny to me how many of these shorts take place when Steven’s in bed. It’s a good brooding spot, I suppose. Nice and isolated, and good for flopping upon.
> 
> Next chapter: Together Forever.
> 
> Steven does briefly turn pink in the episode In Dreams, but I decided to skip writing a short for this one because I wanted to stay on the narrative path I’ve forged, re: the unfortunate negative progression of Steven’s emotional state.


	7. Together Forever

Steven doesn’t let himself _truly_ cry until he’s out of Garnet’s sight and alone in his room, in a place where he no longer has to be subject to all her high and mighty lecturing on things like love, fusion, and the pursuit of ‘healthy, balanced relationships.’

Those first tears are laced with what he can only describe as foggy resentment. (At Garnet? Connie? _Himself??)_ His expression remains nearly motionless as they pool at the corners of his eyes and slowly carve canyons down his ruddy cheeks. Vision blurred by his remorse, he thrusts the half-empty cake box on his desk, remnants of buttercream frosting smeared across his lips. He’d have eaten more, but after stuffing three serving’s worth into his mouth to mask the ache of his sorrow, his stomach’s conceived to betray him, churning and upset from all that sugary sweetness. Ughh, it’s a gastrointestinal nightmare. With his recent diet changes, he’s not used to ‘sweet’ anymore. Clutching his midsection with one arm as he rides this latest wave of discomfort, he roughly wipes the frosting off his face. He clenches his teeth through the crest of this pain so hard his jaw aches.

Oh, well. He made all these stupid choices all on his own. It’s only fair for him to face the just consequences.

Illuminated solely by moonlight, the heartbroken teen sheds his blazer and flip flops, abandoning them to the middle of his floor like the picnic he childishly destroyed by the cliffs. He shuffles dejectedly towards his bed, pleading with every yearning fiber of his soul for a reality where it might envelop him between its folds forever and he could finally be _done,_ finally rest. His first real sob breaks through as he drops headfirst into his comforter, staining the covers with his salty, usually curative tears. There’s no curing this mistake, though. There’s no repairing the damage he’s wrought this time.

Because he’s ruined his relationship with Connie forever.

Snapping bright pink in a heartbeat at the mere thought of her name, he slams his fist against his bedspread, the resulting shockwave causing the furniture to rattle. Stars, he’s so _stupid!_ What on Earth ever made him think she’d want to spend her whole life stuck with such a selfish, unstable _disaster_ of a person? Hoarse cries bubble up from his chest as he rolls into his back, feeling utterly isolated and defeated, the glow receding as the brunt of his self-directed anger fades. An awful part of him desperately wants to be mad at Connie, at Garnet— because wow, existence would be _so easy_ if he could simply blame others for every inconvenience and hardship he’s ever faced— but deep down in his heart he knows they’re both right. He and Connie, they’re too young to marry, much less fuse forever. Stevonnie won’t make him stop feeling any less directionless, won’t help him control these ugly diamond outbursts, won’t fill that aching chasm in his soul. And thus, the only soul left to blame is himself.

Steven shifts on the bed at that point, suddenly unable to ignore the existence of that hard plastic ring in his back pocket, weighing his body down like lead. With his bottom lip quivering amidst his weeping, he rolls on his side so he can reach back and retrieve it. It’s still softly glowing when he brings it in front of his face. His upset stomach churns at the untimely reminder, the ache deepening right behind his gem. He can _feel_ a new rush of hard light flood through his body, feel as that glowing pink threatens to envelop him again and let his power explode outwards and blast his surroundings to shreds like he did to the picnic on the beach, but he has to hold it back, has to contain it, _control_ it, because... he lets out a bitter sob... because if he doesn’t, then everyone in his life will finally discover how messed up and awful he is and he’ll finally succeed in destroying every single relationship he has left, just like he irreparably destroyed this one.

And then?

No one will need him or even _want_ him ever again.

Gritting his teeth as he desperately holds this glow at bay, he grips the glow bracelet and rips its ends from the connector piece, throwing this tiny hunk of plastic at the wall in a fit of temper. He doesn’t deserve to be loved, anyways. Not by her. Not by anyone. No, he deserves to suffer, to put up with his stupid upset stomach, to ache from loneliness. After all, he chose this path. And the consequences... in the end, those bitter consequences always catch up. Justified.

He cries himself to sleep that night, clutching that glow stick to his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah, so- I know the glow bracelet is intact and in the freezer in Growing Pains, but I was trying to match this short to one of my old art pieces, which is why Steven tore the connector off. Just imagine he gets up the next morning, puts it back together, and throws it in the freezer where he doesn’t have to see it. Maybe he can’t fix his relationship with Connie, but he _can_ fix this one tiny thing.
> 
> Also, like... in reality, Steven _didn't_ "ruin his relationship with Connie forever," but alas the depressed mind is scarily adept at warping one's perception of events as it sees fit.
> 
> Next week: Growing Pains.


	8. Growing Pains

He feels hollow by the time he climbs into Dad’s van, like a gourd that had all its innards mercilessly scooped out, indiscriminately, leaving nothing behind... or maybe like a raw nerve, exposed to the elements for the very first time. Perhaps a little of both extremes at once. In any case, it’s left him in a weird mental state wherein he’s incredibly keyed up about every tiny noise around him, and yet simultaneously deficient in engaging with anything in real-time.

A world away, his dad starts the engine and backs out of their parking spot. He thinks Dad may have asked him something— cautiously, patiently... the same way people might treat a skittish cat— but his brain is filled with static. Staring blankly out the passenger window, Steven trains his scattered focus on the repetitive clicking sound of the turn signal, nearly jolting in his seat when the aging mechanisms skip a few beats.

Suddenly desperate to pull himself away from the unreliability of this pattern, he dares to lower his glance to the printouts Dr. Maheswaran handed him and his dad for reference before one of the other nurses escorted them to the door. One of them was the stitched-together image of the x-rays she’d taken, his stark white bones appearing frail and vulnerable amidst all those spiderwebbing, healed-over cracks. Acidic bile threatens to rise from his stomach the more he stares at the sobering reality of his own shattered skeleton, so he quickly shuffles this paper behind the other printout and pushes all those uncomfortable feelings threatening to explode to the surface— both physical and intangible— back down to the pit of his core. The other page is just a list of resources about finding local psychiatrists and therapists in the area. He bites at the inside of his cheeks as he stares holes into this paper. He’s not... okay, so Dr. Maheswaran was probably right, all the Gem stuff he dealt with in his childhood probably _was_ traumatic and messed up the way he responds to stress, but how could any of these humans ever dream to help him when the manifestation of his problems is so... so _not_ human? Surely normal humans don’t shatter the floor with nothing but their voice, don’t glow pink, don’t swell up until they literally fill the room and smash through the light receptacles in the ceiling.

Surely normal humans aren’t this out-of-control.

His dad clears his throat then, the abrupt noise reeling Steven back to reality in but a stuttering heartbeat as he flinches in his seat. It’s at this point his brain finally catches up with the status-quo and notices how uncharacteristically silent and empty it is in this van. _Sadie and Shep aren’t sitting in the back,_ he realizes with a sharp inhale. Dad must’ve bailed their tour entirely to come home for him. He blinks away the fresh, burning tears budding at the corners of his eyes. Wow, yet another thing he’s irreparably ruined today. In front of his audience of one, he struggles (and fails) to bite back the sobs building in his chest as his mind serves up the bitter image of the hospital room he left behind, all but thrashed in his wake.

“Steven...?”

The hint of glowing pink creeping ever further across his cheeks is unmistakable in the window’s faint reflections. Tears now streaming down his face, his heart ramps up and his breathing hastens as he clenches his shoulders tight and desperately tries to reign in all these stupid emotions before he starts swelling up over it again. The last thing he wants to do is make his dad wreck the van. ( ~~The awful thing is that it’d be so _easy_... all it would take is one wayward shout for the windows to shatter, and then—~~)

He begins to gasp for breath erratically, unceremoniously discarding the printouts he held on the floor and clutching his arms around his midsection. The world grows faint, nearly spinning around him. 

His awareness is so fragmented that he doesn’t notice that the van’s been parked on the side of the road until his dad is already leaning halfway out of his seat, unbuckled, pressing his hands against his nearest shoulder.

“Steven, I- I’m here,” he stammers, eyes wide in his own panic. “I’m here, I’m promise, just- just try and breathe in niiiiice and deep for me, ‘kay?”

Still struggling through tears, Steven fights to wrest control of his breath, only finding balance and reassurance through the gentle circular movement of Dad’s fingers on his sore muscles.

“Through the nose, hold it in... Yes, yes. That’s it... just like that. Nice and slow. Try and match my pace.”

The two breathe together for the next few minutes, the glow fading from his skin and his erratic inhalation eventually settling back into something nearing a repetitive, predictable pattern. His dad hugs him close, pulling his head to his chest and letting the reassuring double-rhythm of his heartbeat drown out all the stress and burden of this world.

Safe, for now.

“You’re gonna be okay, buddy. I promise you... you’re gonna be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of father-son comfort before the storm.
> 
> Next week: Mr. Universe. Really hoping I can quickly fill out my buffer again beyond next chapter so I can continue the weekly update schedule, wish me luck.


	9. Mr. Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: Brief depiction of mild self-harm.

In the protective arms of another universe, there must exist a Steven who’s mostly okay.

A Steven who lives in a humble house at the edge of the sea with his dad. Together, they always have enough food to make by. The heat never shuts off and leaves them paralyzed by cold in the heart of winter. The bills are always paid. More importantly, they can always rely on one another. He goes to school every week. He experiences real summer vacations like Connie does. His dad makes him eat boring, nutritious things like vegetables or meatloaf every Thursday. He has a curfew. He takes annual trips to the doctor like kids are apparently supposed to. He’s in regular contact with the human side of his family. His childhood is _stable_ and _safe_. He has a purpose. He’s needed. He’s never swelling up over all these third era problems to begin with because he has unconditional support, people who actually understand him, who actually take time to listen. Who aren’t afraid to tell him when he’s in the wrong, when he abysmally screws up beyond repair.

Stewing in bitter, self-imposed anger on the side of the road, sitting crowded among all the creeping brambles and weeds no one’s bothered to contain, Steven grinds his fists inwards so tight that his fingernails nearly punch little half-moon punctures in the skin of his palms. 

Because just once, just _once_ in his life—! he wants his dad to tell him no. To get mad. To give him a scolding for being so reckless and rash, for putting others’ lives on the line. (Like, what if the road wasn’t empty when he flipped the van, what if he hit someone else, what if that crash injured them ~~or worse~~ , what if, _what if—)_

Instead he didn’t even give him a slap on the wrist, and the mere thought that he's been pardoned from all repercussions in Dad's eyes only serves to make his guilt and outrage fester like a thunderous storm deep within his soul. Stars, he desperately wishes he were alone to process the consequences of this nightmare right now. He wishes he could scream. He could’ve _hurt_ him, losing control at the wheel like that, and Dad has the audacity to say he’s “proud?” Seriously?!

He hisses suddenly, a small, sharp burst of pain blooming at the center of his palm, and lifts the afflicted hand to his mouth to kiss it better before he dares uncurl his fingers to look at the blood he’s just accidentally drawn from his own flesh. At but a small physical representation of the kind of damage he’s capable of spawning. It’s yet another reason why he can’t tell his family anything. Why he can’t trust them to understand the galaxy-sized burdens he’s holding aloft. They’re not diamonds, not hybrids. They’re not _him._ They can’t truly understand how dangerous his power is.

He’s entirely out of line, out of control, over-emotional about the stupidest things. He doesn’t need all this misplaced ‘fatherly love and advice,’ he doesn’t need his dad’s stupid song, he needs restraint. Rules. Punishment. Something, _anything,_ if only to reign these powers in to a place where he can’t hurt anyone with them anymore. Isn’t that awful? What kind of twisted person desires that? Heck, if he weren’t in such close proximity to his dad— who sits on the curb a few feet away distracting himself with solitaire while waiting for the tow truck— he might offer the mocking stars above an acerbic laugh at the mess the past few days have become.

Steven hugs his knees to his chest, clenching his teeth as he desperately works to hold the threat of that damaging glow at bay. _Not here,_ he whispers to himself in solitude. _Not again. Not now._ But he can feel his heart rate spiking, can feel the force of that transformative light flooding just under the surface, threatening to envelop him like a second skin. Can feel the exhaustion of his diaphragm as his quiet, quivering breath fails to reach the depths required for efficient oxygen intake.

...he’s scared. More than anything else, he‘s lost and so, so scared. He’s sitting at the edge of a precipice, so high that if he falls, he fears no one could ever dream of catching him.

Which is exactly why he HAS to wrest control of this power himself. He has to.

~~(Otherwise next time... someone really _will_ get killed.)~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steven: I’m mad huffy at myself and so I want other people to also be mad
> 
> Also Steven, when the Gems corner him next episode: Wait no not like that-
> 
> Hi, all! Currently, I have exhausted my pre-written buffer. What this means is that from now on, weekly updates are not guaranteed, especially since it's the holidays and I just finished a grueling term of college and need some time to recover. I am hoping that I'll gain the energy and inspiration to keep on writing this week so I can give y'all an update right on schedule, next Tuesday, but given that my ADHD had a bad habit of only letting me be productive on fanfiction to procrastinate on work and I'm now _done_ with that work, I'm not sure if I'll be successful in that.
> 
> Just wanted to give y'all a heads-up in case I disappear on this fic for a little bit. I'm appreciative of everyone's readership, thank you! <3


	10. Fragments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: An absolute disregard of personal safety that _perhaps_ could be seen as an attempt at self-harm. 
> 
> I didn't exactly write this with that in mind, but after re-reading it, well... I figure it’s better safe than sorry to add a warning.

Sleep is a joke in these woods.

The few short lengths of shut-eye he manages as he huddles on the dirt in his makeshift shelter are riddled with shadows, regrets, and warped fragments of all the disturbing encounters of his childhood he’d rather not remember. Upon startling awake he swears he was trapped within those nightmares for months, just like Lapis and Jasper were shackled to each other at the bottom of the sea, and yet whenever he darts to his feet and into the clearing to check the night sky, the moon has barely shifted in position. This pattern continues three times before he gives up on the idea of rest entirely.

That’s fine, though. Given his lackluster performance in Jasper’s training sessions thus far, he doesn’t deserve it in the first place.

Instead, he finds himself pacing at the top of the hillside overlooking the valley, right alongside the cliff’s edge, a hundred feet up. It’s a picturesque view, that’s for sure. Thousands of trees— yet untouched by his mentor’s fury— blanket this vast expanse, only interrupted by rocky clearings or streams. Hanging light years above the fragile skin of the Earth are the constellations, their pinprick patterns almost crowded out of clear view by the Milky Way’s full splendor. The sight is mesmerizing enough to make a boy reflect on the path he’s taken. On what his rightful purpose is within this galaxy’s clockwork, the very question that’s been senselessly gnawing away at him for weeks and weeks. And miraculously, tonight he’s met with an answer.

Slowly, surely... he’s beginning to realize that this high precipice he’s so afraid of falling from is merely the tipping point he’s been coursing towards his whole life. It doesn’t represent his damnation, but a _choice._ The choice to shed all his inhibitions and finally embrace all the tumultuous emotion running deep, this power. To finally shed the childish illusion of restraint like an ill-fitting skin and rise above it like a lustrous phoenix. In retrospect, it seems stupidly obvious. How can he ever claim control of himself when he’s still blind to what he’s truly capable of? Of the scope of the destruction he can induce? Like Jasper, he’ll only attain true control of these abilities when he learns to wield them. And to properly wield them, he must first set himself free. 

_Let go of the precipice._

With this final thought permeating his mind— shattering the last of those self-made barricades as he consciously allows that pink glow to envelop his form from head to foot in full force— the young diamond steps to the edge and dives. Off the cliff. Allows himself to slip into terrifying free-fall for just a second too long, desperately resisting that instinctual urge to back down from this inevitable confrontation and shamefully float his way to the forest floor. Instead, he sheds his skin. Extends his arms like wings. In reward of this liberation, some long-buried power within his gem unshackles.

And suddenly he’s laughing. He’s _flying._

And with his heart slamming against his ribs and every sense smashed into overdrive as he dexterously weaves between the trees of this hidden valley, the harsh crosswinds whipping against his face, he realizes he hasn’t felt this alive in months. 

Invigorated by this new lease of strength, he trains without a blink of respite until morning, until sunrise finally creeps over the distant hillside and Jasper emerges from her cave. He pushes himself like he’s fighting for his own survival, sprinting mile laps around the woods until he‘s able to complete a loop in the minuscule time it takes for a pebble to drop from his hand, hurling heavy stones long distances as if they merely weigh the same as his feather-light shields, smashing his fists into the trees until he’s able to fell them in one punch and his knuckles are raw. What’s more, he _changes,_ undergoing a metamorphosis in more than just spirit. His curls grow long and wild atop his head, and the burgeoning stubble upon his cheeks more prominent. Under the waning moonlight he practically doubles in size and height, his body ever so subtly shifting over the hours to match some idealized image of power that lurks like an anchor within his mind. He’s broad. He’s muscular. He’s a force to be reckoned with.

And he refuses to let shame and fear hold him back any longer.

He’s finally free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> steven, probably: "whoa, awesome! new power, i'm flying!"  
> steven's gem: _bitch u fuckin threw yourself off a cliff, i'm just savin' your ass here. smh, stressing me out..._
> 
> Anyways, yeah. There's my headcanon re: Steven unlocking the flying aspect of pink mode. As with many of the other boosts to his power that manifest while he's in that state, it was his gem overtly working to protect himself in whatever way possible. This is probably the passage I've been most excited to write, out of all of these! I thought it'd be really interesting to explore what his headspace might've been like when he finally decided to go all-out and embrace all this power while training in the woods. 
> 
> In other circumstances, training to understand these abilities better may be a pretty good idea. But alas, he's not exactly... in a stable mental state, here. I'd honestly classify him as slipping into a bit of mania at this moment in time. Here, and then in Everything's Fine. And that unfortunately led to him becoming blind to his own strength.
> 
> Merry Christmas this Friday to those who celebrate, and wishing a safe and blessed week to all! Hoping I'll once again be able to provide an update next Tuesday as scheduled. Thank you for reading! <3


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